


But I would walk 500 miles

by Augenblickgotter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon Relationship, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley to the Rescue (Good Omens), Crowley's Hair (Good Omens), Crowley's True Form (Good Omens), Emotional Support Snake Crowley (Good Omens), F/M, Gen, Gorgon Crowley, Gorgon Pacifica Northwest, Hastur Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Naga Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Romantic Crowley (Good Omens), Sandalphon Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Dagon (Good Omens), asexual good omens, asexual or romantic relationship it's up to you, celestial forms, crowley on warpath, hastur fight dirty, naga crowley to the rescue, sorry beez and gabe shippers no romance here, they/them pronouns for Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augenblickgotter/pseuds/Augenblickgotter
Summary: There's a conspiring of foes from both sides that forcefully kidnap Aziraphale. Crowley is in hot pursuit and will stop at nothing, finding some unlikely aid along the way, and bringing up his True Form when the time is needed.Some depictions of pain and violence, minor character deaths by Holy Water,  and mild gore. Also mild claustrophobic and dingy descriptions of Hell.And the boys relationship can be flat out platonic asexual best of friends or downright dirty lovers. The story is up to you and is more about how far they would go for each other. ;)No, no monster sex in this one either (comb for my last fic if you need it). Just BAMF Crowley ready to walk 500 Miles through Heaven or Hell to save his Angel._They/them/their pronouns used for several other characters throughout.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 70
Collections: Hurt Aziraphale, Ineffable Kinktober 2020





	1. Hell goes postal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cherubino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherubino/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Angry Naga Crowley by Aiwa Sensei](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/675379) by Aiwasensei. 



> [Aiwa Sensei](https://twitter.com/Aiwasensei) posted [THIS MAGNIFICENT piece of art](https://twitter.com/Aiwasensei/status/1293664335856840709/photo/1), some of us fans felt like it needed a story!
> 
> I have a super soft spot for protective Naga/ True From Crowley and was one of several who leapt on the chance to write some fic! This story is INSPIRED by the piece and I hope I did justice to the artist.  
>   
> I am forever indebted to [Cherubino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherubino/pseuds/Cherubino) for the prompt and beta'ing my work. Thank you thank you!!  
> And thanks to several others cheerleading for MOAR Vengeful Rescuing Naga Crowley content. There's not enough in this world.

Driving 90 miles an hour through heavy Soho traffic wasn't any challenge to Crowley. Usually. 

It was, however, when someone else might be doing the same thing, and coming from the opposite direction. Straight at the Speed Demon in his Bentley.

Today Crowley was only doing 60, to be fair. It hadn't been a bad day at all as he headed for the bookshop. No real mischief to manage today, no place he had to go. So popping by to see if he couldn't rouse Aziraphale into closing early and doing something seemed like a good way to kill time as the morning crawled along slowly.

That was until the small van, approaching from the opposite direction, flung into view. It came around a corner with such haste, that the back end seemed to keep speeding in the original direction as the front tires yanked the other way. Crowley thought it might topple, but it corrected fast and was now heading at him.

" _What the ...?_ "

It tore down the road, sending other cars violently veering and honking.

Crowley only wasted a second trying to surmise the wild ride's motive, before instincts kicked in to move from its path. He deftly swung the Bentley around it as the blocky front loomed by his window. He barely caught a terrified looking face and a Winged logo on the van's side while he corrected and slowed his car, joining a line of disrupted vehicles. He glanced in the rearview review mirror and saw the square back end zipping around another corner.

_"Jesus Christ. What the heaven? "_

Traffic was a mess as people were trying to straighten out, others getting out of their cars shouting and pointing.

  
  


Crowley was pulled to the side, trying to shake the little adrenaline jolt off, as he realized something was wrong.

" _That wasn't... normal. Even for crazy humans."_

"Hey!" cried a voice beside his window. He jumped and turned to see a human beside his door, tapping the glass and gesturing for him to roll his window down. He obeyed, hoping he hadn't clipped their car by accident. He didn't have time for discussing insurance, especially since he had none.

"Hey!" the young human woman said, looking at him, "You all right? Get clipped?"

_"Phew, just a Good Samaritan."_

Crowley drew in a breath, unintentionally huffing in the smells left in the speeding car's wake.

"Oh, no, umm, all fine. They missed Her, thanks for asking."

The woman gave a satisfied nod.

"Just checking! Bloody postie clipped a couple cars badly, almost hitting some pedestrians too."

"Postie?"

Crowley felt the outside word blur as his Demonic senses smelled something more than a postal truck, tuning away from the gabby do-gooder beside his door.

_"Postie... no, not just a postie. I smell something from Hell. And... Heaven? What the..."_

"...but, anyway," the woman's voice cut in, "No one was seriously hurt, but apparently someone decided to go literally postal, eh?" 

Crowley shook his head to clear it.

"Uhhhm, yep. Sure did. Thanks, human, please check on the other humans and uhh, stay... safe."

"Same to you!" she called as she jogged to another vehicle.

  
  


_"That Driver... wasn't human. Or something. That felt like... what? Something is off. Maybe I should follow, I'm so close to the Bookshop and it could mean trouble for Aziraphale..."_

The adrenaline spiked in his chest.

_"It came from the Bookshop direction. No, it couldn't be."_

Crowley restarted his engine and zipped out, weaving through the chaos. He cleared the chaos of the traffic jam, , hunkering behind the wheel.

_"Close enough I shouldn't even call him. Oh, damn, the two minutes of paranoia will kill me. "_

He turned to his wireless. "Call Aziraphale!" he barked.

"Calling Aziraphale," mechanically followed with dialing noises.

The pulse of it ringing. Then again. Then again. And again.

_"Just be outside comforting some scared children, please. Don't be in trouble."_

More unheeded ringing.

_"C'mon man! Don't make Crowley worry because he's pretty bloody worried already."_

His anxiety doubled as there were a few more signs the vehicle HAD torn down this path; A few parked cars were clipped and scratched. An officer was taking a note from a frantic looking man, pointing up the street where the vehicle obviously had traveled. A sign was bent over.

_"No, no, no... Just some goddam nut..."_

He slammed up the Bookshop curb and launched out.

He saw nothing but the smell was it stronger; occult presences had been there very recently.

_"Oh shit. Something is bad, really bad..."_

He walked as fast as he could to the doors and snapped his fingers. The sound of a phone ringing inside confirmed the obvious as he smashed the end-call button on his device and slipped it into his pocket.

He halted right at the threshold, demonic senses going off like a firing squad at the barrage of perceptions. Something from Hell, something from Heaven, struggles and escapes.

_"I don't care if it's a trap, I can handle it. Aziraphale is in trouble."_

He strode in angrily, pushing up his glasses and looking around, the doors closing behind him.

"AZIRAPHALE?!" he cried, whipping his head around.

Things were different, but his panic was blinding him to pick them out.

He stepped closer to the front desk, still craning around.

_"He's gone. He's really really gone, Just... like when I almost lost him before."_

His heart slammed louder, drowning out the stillness of the shop.

  
  


"ANGEL?!" he cried frantically before his feet stopped moving and his body teetered.

He looked down and realized he had instinctively stopped checked his own self from walking right into a smoldering pile of something consecrated on the ground.

He stepped back and spied a faint at a trail of liquid he thought could be blood.

_"No, it's not blood. But not water either? Murky... coffee maybe? "_

The trail of liquid went from the side of the desk across the floor over a few feet of clear space and to the piled mess that looked burnt and greasy.

_"What the...?"_

Crowley's mind put together the mess and the sacred burning sensation; The mess on the floor was what was left of a demon. The trail of liquid had been coming dashed from the desk. Crowley leaned over it ever so cautiously, feeling the blessed element of the liquid dispersing fast, but still quite present and dangerous.

_"Aziraphale? What did he..."_

Crowley was answered again by following the clear firing point by the side of the desk, desk's side where large pieces of broken white ceramic lay about.

_"His favourite mug. That's cocoa. He blessed the water in it and dashed it on a demon."_

Crowley looked back and forth, shocked at the thought, and somewhat optimistic. Aziraphale wasn't defenseless; he could get out of a situation.

He snapped his fingers as the ceramic pieces flew together and plopped in his hand. He set the mug on the desk with a renewed sorrow.

He hated that mug. Not so much flat out hated, as it grated his aesthetic. So ridiculous and impractical in shape. An angel having a mug with angel wings on it? He'd rib Aziraphale about it endlessly. 

Aziraphale would puff, pout, say it was charming, and he liked it.

Now all Crowley wanted back was that; to find something to be peeved about yet know it made his partner deeply happy, which made him happy to be a pest about.

Crowley raked his eyes around, looking for another hint. A few of the floor rugs were bunched with signs of an altercation. Some books on the desk scattered like they'd been knocked off. 

_"Nothing more. Demons came in and jumped him? He may be addled sometimes, but even he could sense that fast enough not to be jumped._ "

The silence in the shop pressed harder as Crowley leaned his back against the desk.

Then he noticed a parcel on the desk. 

Glancing down at it, he touched it and felt the fading sensation of something occult lingering about it.

It was addressed to this shop from another book seller Aziraphale frequently bought from. Crowley punctured the tape with his nails and ripped the top open. The books inside revealed nothing. Some odd first editions of local history and myths, but it was apparent flipping through them they were not a clue. 

" _Maybe... bait? They sprang him when he took the package?"_

Crowley's head snapped up.

_"Postie! Mail truck! "_

And then he spotted the last piece of evidence; a clip board on the desk. It laid facing to where Aziraphale would have been sitting at the desk to sign for a delivery, and Crowley confirmed it looking for a signature.

Perfect script, at the bottom, signed by a Mr. Ezra Fell. 

_"Alright, so the postal truck showed up, and he was jumped. Obviously. So, some forces from Hell got him? Hmmm, probably to get to me. Or US. It doesn't matter, I've got to get him back, the details aren't important here."_

He headed for the door and paused.

_"Now what do I do? I've gotta track down the truck! But..."_

He swallowed and looked around, like the room would give him a straight answer.

_"Even if it left a trail of destruction from here to Italy, I can only hope to catch up. No, if it's occult, he's somewhere else. He's clearly not here anymore."_

Frustration, anger, and loss started yanking him from all directions as his mind screamed to move and find him, but his feet didn't even know what direction to head in.

Like an answer from above, the old fashioned desk phone rang.

Crowley jumped and glared at it. If it were a customer, he'd just blow them off fast. The dread that it could be about all this or even Aziraphale was too much. Flexing his fingers, he reached out and picked it up.

"Yeah," he drawled.

A woman's voice spoke.

"If you want this to end, report in."

Crowley's mind raced, knowing he had no choice but wanted to try and scratch anything out of this conversation he could. All he wanted was to threaten, scream, and demand to speak to Aziraphale. But if he could just jigger things a little tiny bit, maybe he could buy time.

_"Okay, lemme try this..."_

"Oh uh, yes, books on reporting? We have those? Are you looking for reporting on what, may I ask? The weather? Gossip? Sports? I'll need you to be more specific."

There was a pregnant pause, a muffled noise, and barely audible voices.

"Perfect, she wasn't expecting that and is asking someone else what to do."

"Listen, Crowley, we know it's you..."

"Who's WE? Huh? I want to speak to Aziraphale now."

"The only way you'll see him again is if you report to The Front Entrance."

Crowley had his eyes closed and tried to place the voice.

Suddenly he heard scuffling and arguing voices, along with a tire screeching. 

"Hang up now! He'll come through!" a male voice was demanding.

The phone clicked and Crowley yowled at his own stupidity.

Of course he could have gone through the phone! 

_"Wait, no, they would have hung up so quick I'd truly be in limbo. Fine, they are still on the road. They want me to go The Front. There were at least two of them. The woman's voice was familiar. "_

Crowley glanced at the phone one last time, hoping it would spring to life again with a ring.

Moving to the door he spotted Aziraphale's overcoat hung on a coat rack. 

_"Means he was puttering around the shop, not suspecting a thing._ "

He grabbed it up, searched the pockets to no avail, and slung it over his shoulder as he headed for the door. He regretted that instantly as he smelled the familiar mustiness on the fabric. He hung his head a little as he reached for the door knob.

_"Fine. I'm coming for you. But I have no bleeding idea what is going on here."_

He let go of the door handle and stooped at the glint of something on the floor right before the doorway.

He reached to touch it and chilled at the slightly tacky sensation when a finger tip touched it.

_"Feels like blood. Please no."_

He closed his eyes as he lifted his fingers to his face.

_"No, please, no."_

He inhaled and bolted up, slamming the door open, stalking to the car.

Flinging himself into the seat he slammed the engine on barely letting it growl to life as he shifted and mashed the gas.

He tore up the sunny afternoon street, swerving and screeching past obstacles he barely saw. 

All he could see were flames he'd reign down. Pain and agony ten fold whatever was done to his Angel.

_____________________________________________

Crowley had only been blindly speeding to his destination a few minutes when he spotted the black scales on the back of his hands; like sequins, with vague hues of red in the light. He flicked his hand and saw his nails were black and longer.

He glanced at his rear-view mirror and grimaced at the few scales that had started appearing around his eyebrows. 

_"Calm yourself, if that's possible, Crowley. Save it."_

Inhaling slowly, he decided to plot some for whatever may happen.

_"They want me to come, probably on the basis of using him as leverage. It certainly felt Hell related, but not fully. Maybe meddling humans helping, being forced to help, paid off to help? Well, I am sure Hell still has some bones to pick with me, but... even if they can't be trusted, we warned them to leave us alone. They do usually honor their word. It's good for business and all."_

He watched the scales recede and sighed.

" _Almost there. Well, they KNEW I'd be at the bookshop, so must have plotted this out. Spying on us. I haven't detected much, but hey, maybe I got too lax. Hmmm, the woman was familiar. But not from my old job. And they knew I could go through the phone."_

Crowley tipped his head.

_"Doesn't answer much. I'm sure I'll find out soon enough."_

It had been over a year since he had come here. The last time he used it he was in another body and took the Up Escalator for the first time in thousands of years.

He slowed the car, trying to reckon what to do if no one was there to tell him where he had to go next when his heart leapt as he noticed ;

the Delivery Van with the Winged logo on the scratched up sides.

He lurched to a halt and bolted out. The back of the van was open so he raced towards it.

Empty, no packages or people inside. But on the dusty floor he saw a few blood smears. He leaned in to smell and peeled backwards.

_"He was here, just a few minutes ago."_

He started to jog towards the glass door when he heard a pleading voice at the van's front.

Looking back over his shoulder, he noticed a Police Motorcycle pulled nearby and then saw the Officer questioning someone.

The brown uniform of the other man instantly told Crowley he was the Driver. The actual delivery truck driver and he was pleading to the Officer standing in front of him.

"Please, listen to me!" he was begging the skeptical cop, "I WASN'T DRIVING! "

The Officer was talking into a walkie talkie and never stopped glaring at the Driver.

"Yeah, well, It's your van _and_ you were at the wheel. So, were you asleep and gremlins were driving, eh?"

"No please!" The frantic man begged, "It was like I was possessed!"

Crowley had eavesdropped and halted totally.

_"Possessed. That's it. And the Driver is familiar."_

Crowley spun on his heels fast and approached fast.

His mind reeled as he placed the thin hang-dog face.

_"The Delivery Man that picked up the artifacts of the Horsemen. And The Flaming Sword. Of course, I've seen him around. What was his name? Lenny..."_

"Hey, Officer!" Crowley barked, strolling up, lowering his glasses.

The Officer shot him an angry look while the Driver clutched himself nervously.

"Look, son," he warned, "I am dealing with a situation here. You need to back off and leave us alone for..."

"Just hang on a moment," Crowley interrupted, snapping a finger.

The Officer froze mid- sentence and gesture.

The Driver nervously turned around.

"Lesley," Crowley greeted, glancing at his name tag. 

Lesley squinted his bleary eyes. 

"Uhm, I've seen you about. You are friends with Fell, right?"

"Yup, that's me." Crowley stood in front of him, hands in his pockets, and a mildly warning smile spreading on his face. 

"And I am looking for him now. Where's he, Lesley?"

Lesley looked around, biting his lower lip and refraining the best he could from bursting into tears.

"Well, uhm, I'm not sure... I was just doing my route... and... oh god..."

Crowley rolled his head impatiently with a sigh and held up a hand.

"Look, listen, Lesley, I believe you totally and am really sorry about what you clearly went through. But we have no time, and this will make everything so much faster."

Crowley snapped his fingers. Lesley went rigid.

"Alright, Delivery Human Lesley, " Crowley said as he lowered his glasses to glare back (" _Ah, yes, now you are truly terrified. Makes these conversations so much easier"_ ) , "Tell me, what happened?"

"I was making a regular delivery to the bookshop," he intoned blankly.

"I went to the back of the truck for the final package. It had slid up, so I climbed in. The next thing I knew, it was like I was... grabbed all over. I couldn't fight it. Like a blanket thrown over all of me that suddenly went tight. And a voice filled my head and made my arms and legs move."

"Ah. You got possessed, Lesley. What did the voice say?"

"To deliver the books and don't act any different. And do anything it made me do, or I'd never see Maude again."

Crowley nodded. 

"As I climbed out, I saw some other people nearby and knew they were accomplices."

"What kind of other people, Lesley?"

"Weird and dirty. I thought they were lurking beggars at first. One had an animal on its head. Another had red eyes. They lurked around the building."

"Ah, those were other Demons, Lesley. What happened then?"

"The voice was my voice... It spoke through me and told them to follow in 30 seconds in."

"And?"

"Those other demons began lurking around excitedly."

"Lesley, enough about the lurking demons. You went in and saw Aziraphale behind his desk?"

"No, I saw Mr. Fell. I approached, and he was expecting me. I asked him to sign for the box, set it down, and as he finished, the Demon made me... us... suddenly reach out to grab him."

Crowley pursed his lips.

"Sloppy. And?"

"He was surprised, but We were more surprised when he sent us flying back. Like an explosion. The other Demons had lurked into the room and were trying to get him."

"And?!"

"He tossed something at one, and it melted."

Crowley grinned. 

"Yep, lurking days were over for him. And?"

"A few of the demons fled, but the Demon controlling me said he'd better stop or he'd hurt me."

Crowley gaped and saw what he missed; A human shield.

A low and dirty trick to get an upper hand an Angel couldn't fight.

Especially one that never wanted to hurt humans.

"And... he agreed?"

"He was very sorry and even seemed ready to destroy both the demon and myself, saying that he knew it must be done."

Crowley sighed with mild pride. 

"But?"

"But the Demon made me beg about my wife. He said he'd make me hurt and then kill her, and then leave me alive like that with my actions unless Mr. Fell left with us."

Crowley growled in defeat.

"So, you took him here?"

"Eventually, yes."

"Eventually? Was there a fight? What was with the blood?!"

"A woman was outside, and she yelled at the demons to hurry and bring Mr. Fell. There was a fight. He heard the woman and suddenly refused to go."

Crowley held his breath.

"Was he hurt?"

Lesley nodded.

"How bad? Please tell me."

"One demon had a tire iron. They knocked him out and put him in the back of my truck."

"Was... he... how hurt was he? I need to know!" Crowley keened leaning closer. "Please."

Lesley shook his head with no answers.

"He never talked; he was out the whole time. I was forced to drive here."

"Yeah, I met you on the street. And the woman called, didn't she? While you were coming to this place?"

"She did... and my Demon seemed panicked you might come through the phone and demanded she hang up. "

Crowley heard a siren approaching.

"Lesley," he concluded, "You have been through Hell. You will be taken by these Officers to a hospital to check for injuries and fill out a report about a crazy kidnapper that held you at gunpoint for a ransom getaway gone wrong. You'll go back to your Maude and be the happiest man on God’s Green Earth." 

He snapped, and Lesley started blinking.

"Oh, wait!" Crowley turned around and snapped him still again. 

"Your demon, you never saw him?"

"Never."

"What was his voice like?"

"Raspy. Gravelly."

Crowley nodded.

_"Hastur knows I can go through phones, and may still be lacking a body. Hmmm."_

"Thanks, Lesley," Crowley yelled as he turned away with a snap.

"And you," he barked at the still frozen Officer. "Give the guy a break; he had a rough day."

He snapped and sauntered deeper into the lobby as emergency vehicles pulled up.

The Officer blinked and approached Lesley, firmly grabbing him by the arm and leading him to an ambulance pulling up.

____

Crowley pushed his way through the immaculate glass doors like he had hundreds of times before.

_"Heaven bound? Or Hell bound? No real difference now, I suppose."_


	2. The Paperwork would be Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds his presence is requested by both Heaven and Hell, trying to convince him to come to their respective places. 
> 
> He has to play elimination to see who is lying, telling the truth, or perhaps manipulating the story.  
> ____________________  
> EDIT- for some reason, Ao3 was acting glitchy and didn't copy BOLD words and italicized words for this specific chapter intitially. I tried it from two different computers with the same no-show results. The chapter is fixed. Sorry about that, some of Crowley's inner talks and the Hell Signs are now back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They/Them pronouns for Dagon, Michael, and Beez.

The Lobby of the Main Entrance was like any departure platform you'd find anywhere. It wasn't uncommon to see an angel or a demon crossing paths from earthly to non-earthly destinations without acknowledging the other; . 

nor to see an occult being waiting for another arrival. Or sorting their bags before going on, or exchanging a word with someone else. But the taciturn agreement between Heaven and Hell was it was a neutral zone, and no altercations were allowed. And just like any hub, it was merely the main station. More than likely, the place was empty. 

Crowley rambled in, hoping somebody would be there and bared his teeth when he spotted a very familiar figure standing on the water before the Heaven Bound escalator. 

"Michael!" Crowley declared, coming closer, "I should have recognized your voice. Moved to kidnapping, have you?"

Archangel Michael stood statuesque as ever, hand clasped before them, not even sending a shimmer across the water at the escalator bases.

"Demon Crowley," they spoke, "Kidnapping? What are you pretending to accuse me of?"

Crowley halted just short of the shimmering edge, knowing full well he'd sink even if he tried to cross. 

"Oh, let's stop frolicking around, Michael. What the Hell did you do to him?"

"I've done nothing to him."

Crowley choked back rage.

"Michael, get to your goddam point now why you have him and why you want me here. And why demonic forces are part of this."

"Crowley, you must understand, we are only trying to help."

Crowley glared.

"I don't care what you think you are doing for him. We both are no longer part of that celestial circus and would very much like to be left alone."

"Demon Crowley, you know very fully that both your actions cannot be ignored nor..."

"WE ARE DONE HERE!" 

Crowley balled his fists and leaned forward.

"We said to leave us alone and haven't given you any reason for further intrusion. I have no time for this and demand you tell me where he is now!"

"Or what?" Michael replied primly.

"Or I'll just have to come and retrieve him myself, won't I?"

"Ah!" Michael teased, "Just what I came to offer graciously! Come with me, and I will take you to Aziraphale." 

Michael offered a hand with a sweeping gesture, a curt expression never leaving their face.

"Oh, that simple, eh?" Crowley mocked.

"Yes, Crowley, I wouldn't deceive you. It's not my nature."

Crowley cackled, making Michael visibly bristle. 

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Flutters. You are the most illustrious liar I've met with a particular grudge against Aziraphale. You have some other trap planned. Sorry, I am not buyin' it. "

Michael steeled their eyes.

"Crowley, please, you have no idea..."

"IS HE HURT?" Crowley growled.

Michael took a mental step back.

"I caused him no harm."

"That is not what I asked," Crowley growled. "Is he injured?!"

"Well, he struggled when he refused to listen and come with me..."

Michael stopped talking when Crowley began to hiss as scales appeared over the backs of his hands. 

"WHO HURT HIM THEN? HOW BADLY IS HE HURT?"

"Crowley, come with me, and you can talk to him yourself and see he's fine."

Crowley suddenly simmered down and stared at her.

"You don't have him, do you?" He whispered. " You are working with others, and they have him, don't they? You just... want me to go with you into a trap or somethin'? Eh?"

Michael put up an air of being offended. 

"Are you just too frightened to help your friend by returning to Heaven? I'm offering you a chance you'll never get otherwise."

Crowley looked around, feigning boredom.

"Nah, did the whole Heaven thing already years ago, Not my thing. Besides..." He waved a hand at the water between them. "I can't cross, I just do the lead balloon thing when I try."

"Take my hand, and you can cross, I promise." 

Michael stepped across the water, stopped a few feet from Crowley, reaching the hand out.

Crowley huffed, slamming his hands in his pockets.

"Right, and let me fall halfway across, hmm? Probably blessed this water, and it's Holy all the way through."

"Crowley," Michael chided, "I'd never do a thing like that. And it appears Holy Water wasn't a problem for you before."

She narrowed her eyes in triumph when Crowley stared back with an exposed expression.

"Oh you fucking little b..."

They were both interrupted by a noise coming up the other escalator.

A laborious panting came closer as someone trudged upward at them. 

Crowley was confused with the upside-down reflection of something approaching until the water parted, and the person rose into sight.

Eric the Expendable Demon staggered up, winded and more ragged-looking than usual. He spotted the duo and gave a cordial grin.

"Ah! Hey, Demon Crowley!" he greeted, moving towards him.

"Uhhm, Eric? "

Crowley never had anything truly against Eric; he was usually the messenger boy (or boys as often as not) that always was in the wrong place at the wrong moment.

Eric stepped forward, nodding at the increasingly agitated Michael.

"Hey there, Angel. Ah, Crowley, glad I ran into you. I'm to deliver to you this;" he pulled a scroll from thin air and stood his straightest as he began reading aloud.

"Demon Crowley, you are requezzzted for private businezz regarding rezzzent unezzzzpected eventzzz. It'zzz in the interezzzt of all to end thizzz mizzzunderstanding now. Come at onczzze, safe pazzzage izzz promizzzed...."

"Hmmm, wonder who sent that," Crowley interrupted. "Tell me, Eric, what's it about if they just sent a note? "

"Very private matter, " Eric said. "Zir said it mustn't be discussed in the open."

They both glanced at Michael and back at each other.

  
  


"No!" Crowley hissed backing from both of them. He crossed his arms and stared between both.

"Neither of you have given me a hint or straight answer here. I have absolutely no reason to believe either of you. For all I know you could be working together."

Both started arguing over each other denying his accusations .

Crowley snarled and yelled out, his whole countenance exploding into a shrieking, saber fanged, demonic reptilian visage before snapping back to the normal one.

Eric jumped back. Michael looked repulsed.

"Both of you hear this; if he's alive, or his body is destroyed, but his soul is still alive, bring him to me. Here. I will NOT accept anyone's word. I won't accept a goddam sign or token or a single feather as proof. There's only one proof I need. "

"But, you see," Eric pleasantly tried to restart, "That's the problem that we can't because.... uhm, " he glanced at Michael. "It really would all become clear if you came with me now."

"Crowley," Michael countered with false comfort, "Please, you'll find the truth if you come with us. We're only trying to help both of you."

"No," Crowley repeated, waving a hand. 

"Run back to Hell Eric and tell 'Zir’ I need a better reason, or for 'Zir’ to come and tell it in my face. Michael, get back to your clouds and tell Gabriel I'd like to talk to him. That is if neither of you can procure my friend. You have 30 minutes."

Eric sighed in frustration but turned first to leave.

"Hey, at least I'm going downhill this time!" he cheerily called back as he faded into the depths.

Michael sneered and turned.

"Crowley," she called back as she stepped on the first step and ascended, "You must believe us."

"I don't."

Crowley waited in the lobby alone. He paced, fretted, checked his phone, and leaned against a wall before eventually sliding down to sit against it holding his knees.

_"Michael was lying and is playing a part in this . Eric was doing his job but didn't have a lie made up or didn't want Michael to hear something. Beelzebub just sent me a blank invite. No real evidence and not exactly a warm invite to a party, but no threats to break my legs in my sleep. Or break Aziraphale's legs."_

  
  


He rolled that last thought around.

_"Beez doesn't have him. Michael might... no wait, I'm not so sure. Perhaps. Beez wants.... something. But not him? And not me, they need me to do something. Hmmm. "_

Crowley felt out with his senses again and couldn't sense Aziraphale on Earth anywhere.

 _"He's certainly gone. He might even be discorporated. His soul would be in Heaven, and they'd be sure to not let him escape. Or... "_ Crowley slumped, as another thought entered the frame. 

_"He's physically knocked out and they won't let him wake."_

Crowley thought about the blood and Lesley mentioning the crowbar. 

Aziraphale didn't appear to be a fighter, but Crowley knew better. Lesley said he wouldn't leave without a fight. He was capable of reacting if the situation called for it.

_"Heck, he was the only one who tried to kill the Antichrist. I just stood there. He totally fought his angelic nature to try to blast away a cherub faced 11 year old child. "_

Crowley let his thoughts keep fighting each other as the moments dragged on.

Emotional rescue arrived when he heard loud breathing coming up the Hell-bound stairs.

He leaped to his feet just as a fatigued figure crested the top.

"Dagon?" Crowley muttered in confusion.

Dagon panted and looked murderous (more than usual), but caught their breath and approached.

"Yeah, Crowley. It's your old friend Dagon." They gave a feral insincere grin. "Next time go sit in your stupid car so I can send you a message through the goddam radio instead of having to come up here myself."

"Hhm, what gives, old friend?" Crowley gave an equally false smile.

Dagon rolled their eyes.

"I'll cut to the chase; Beez wants you to come to Hell to help clean up something now. It involves your stupid Angel friend, and no, we can't talk about it here."

Crowley sighed.

"Yeah, that still doesn't work. Why the secret?"

"Because, idiot, it's obvious that we can't say anything aloud. We have a traitor situation involving both parties."

They gestured to the Heaven Bound escalator.

"Oh, I see, renegade Angels, pairing up with Demons? Wow, came to ask for my advice on the matter, hmm?"

"Noooo," Dagon snarled with impatience, " It's out of our hands and well..." They reached in their jacket and held out a note. "Zir said that they knew you wouldn't believe them. This note is the last thing we have to say on this matter. Read it and either follow me or do whatever you are going to do."

Crowley snatched the note.

"Demon Crowley,

Thizz izz your lazzt chanzze. I do not have the Angel Azzziraphale, but neither doezzz Heaven. Spiesss have informed us that there has been a secret group between Angelzzz and Demonzz starting something that needs to be ended for the sake of uzzz in Hell. Your friend is zomewhere in Hell where he can't be traced. Do not play your hand here, you do not know whatzzz at stake for all. My offer izzzz zimple; I grant you the chanzzze to retrieve your friend and expozzze the offending party, you both leave here like it never happened. I promizzzed to not bother either of you and will honor that as the Prinze of Darknezz. That izz all. "

The note burst into flames and disappeared. Crowley locked eyes with a smug-looking Dagon.

"Well, that means..."

"It means," Dagon snapped "You get moving now, no questions, and we can all end this like it never happened."

Crowley crossed his arms, grinning. "Wait, wait, THEY are in trouble."

Dagon pressed their lips tight. 

"YOU are in trouble," he continued, "You have a situation you don't want exposed and..."

"Brilliant, Crowley, you figgered' it out.” Dagon mock congratulated, thrusting their arms out. “Now, you want to find your Dove, or you going to keep jacking around?"

Crowley couldn't believe he'd fall for this. But of all the things, he trusted Hell more than Heaven, and not because of being a Demon. Despite being untrustworthy, lying, and all-around devious, there was enough of an honor code he knew firsthand.

Dagon turned back for the downward stairs. Crowley sighed and forced himself after them.

He slipped below the floor of water as black ripples shimmered with the last glimpse of the light from the lobby.

_"I'll be back, I'll be back. And I won't be alone. "_

The corridor was worse than the dankest subway tunnel on earth.

The tiles peeled off the rotten walls, grimy liquid oozing and dripping between them. Only a few sparse dim bulbs lit the ceiling. No matter, you couldn't see to the end anyhow.

Glancing back behind himself, both ends of the tunnel were confusingly identical, save for the slope downward, and the occasional filthy sign on the wall.

The nearest one to Crowley, ah, that brought back memories...;

A large arrow was pointing downward, with the block print words; 

**YOU ARE GOING STRAIGHT TO HELL; THAT WAY.**

The next one read;

**NO RUNNING ON THE STAIRS. TAKE YOUR TIME BECAUSE WE'LL TAKE IT FOR YOU ANYWAY.**

The air became humid, hot, and stagnant, and the wild noises and yelling drifted to his ears.

_"Wow, yep. It’s all coming back to me."_

_______

Beelzebub was sitting at their desk. Eric was looking through a nearby filing cabinet for folders and piling them on Beez's desk, while another Eric rooted through a large box of folders on the floor. A third Eric was perusing a stack of papers and selecting specific ones to place in front of a toppling stack in front of Beezlebub. 

The Prince of Darkness testily sorted through, signing some and tossing them, incinerating others, or wading up some and tossing them angrily over their shoulder. 

The door opened and Dagon entered.

"My Lord," Dagon announced with a bow. "I present to you the Demon Crowley."

Beeze stood as Crowley came in.

No saunter. No air of off -hand coolness. No bluffing.

His brows were pulled together in anger, his lips tight in a sneer, and his amber eyes were an orange hue, the irises slit hair-thin down the centers.

"My Lord," he growled, locking his gaze.

Beez almost smirked.

"Ssssomething funny to you, Beez?" he hissed.

"Demon Crowley," Beez intoned, "I'm almost proud of you. You look ready to kill."

"Cut it out now, please," Crowley warned coldly.

"Where iss he?"

"Dagon," Beez snapped, "Lock the door. We need privacy."

Crowley spun his head back and got uneasy. 

"No, this wasn't part of this, and I swear..."

"CROWLEY, stop," Beez intoned. "Relax. I am not locking you in; I want no one to enter. Pleeeaze let me explain."

Beez sat back at their desk with an uncharacteristically exhausted face.

"There have been zumone in my ranks who are making my work difficult. Zumone hazz been working with others from Heaven behind my back."

Crowley huffed. 

"That's original."

Beez blinked and continued.

"More than the normal 'backchanzzles'. But not at a grand level. The operation wazzz small. The plan was for chaosss and dizruption. Bringing you and the Angel into the mix appearzzz to have been the catalyzzzt. To get to the point; I don't need thizz and if I let you find your friend, you can both leave."

"Uh huh," goaded Crowley, putting his hands behind his back. "

"I get it, you don't want to look unprofessional..."

"After what you and your friend did thingzz have been strained around here." Beezlebub gestured to the mountains of files and paperwork.

The trio of Erics all nodded and made agreeing noises. 

Crowley broadly shrugged.

"Oh, well, not my problem, and frankly, your job means nothing to..."

"DEMON CROWLEY," Beez warned, standing, "I AM RIZZZKING MY EXZZZISTENCE TO HELP YOU."

Crowley blinked but remained unphased.

"Why?"

"Uhhm, let me try," one of the Erics offered, stepping forward.

He cleared his throat. "Uhhm, Crowley, after the stint with you and that renegade Angel, and the uh, memorable incident of a trial that just, ha, uhm, backfired, let's just say the Man Downstairs has been in a ... hhmmm, time of transition."

Crowley knotted his brows.

"Uhhhm, that means...."

"It means that well," Eric looked at the other Erics and Beez for permission. "

Beez gave a small nod.

"He's been a little tetchy. "

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, uhm, great. So..."

"Crowley," barked Beez, "Your tampering with Armegaddon, Hizzz Chozzzen Son, and Heaven and Hell's fate wazz unforgivable. Then defying total dezzztruction and turning your back on it all sent him over the edge. Dealing with the aftermath hazz redefined Hell. "

"Must be rough," Crowley apologized lamely.

"You have no idea," Beez hummed. "Hizz dizzappointment in my leadership and the rest of us _(she waved her hand around to a nodding Dagon and Erics_ ) have left uzzz in a fixing state. To get to the point; another rebellion behind hizzz back brought on by traitorzzz is zomething none of uzzz can handle. "

"Ah, I see," Crowley teased. "Best not let daddy know, right?"

"That izzz right. Your friend wazzz kidnapped with Heavenly and Hellish help. The reazzzon is unkown but my suzzzpicionzzz are to either reeel you both in for punishment. Or to start zomething different."

"I... I'm not part of this. Both of us aren't." Crowley brooded. "We aren't part of these stupid games anymore, we've retired from that nonsense. Anyone to think we'd start the next Celestial Apocalypse is mad..."

"You both are lynchpinzzz wether you know it or not."

Beez gave their coldest look. "Your endzzz in all thizzz have not come and shall not for some time. Now is not the time. We need this over, and I shall repeat my offer; Azzziraphale izzz hidden in Hell. 

You find him and reveal the party that did thizzz, you both leave. No quezztions. I don't need any more goddam paperwork."

Dagon grunted in agreement, and the Erics enthusiastically agreed among themselves.

_"It's my best chance. I can't trust them because they are demons, but it's obvious Beez wants this to disappear fast."_

"Yeah, alright. Fine. Don't send me out without telling me anything you might know, though."

"We know little," Dagon said as they began pacing around.

"Heaven helped but let some demons do the dirty work."

"Obviously," Crowley shrugged. "Pretty much synonymous with being a Demon. It's clear the Archangel Michael had a direct hand in it."

"Yeah, that one, in particular, didn't get along with your friend and had a history. Unfortunately, we think the operation was being run by one of our..."

"Hastur," Crowley spat.

Beez looked furious but said nothing. Dagon puckered their mouth like they were refraining from agreeing.

_“Demons; would incinerate you in a flash if you look at them wrong, but oddly loyal in these matters.”_

"Uhh, yes," one of the Eric's confirmed. "We believe The Duke organized and enforced this whole plan."

"Makes sense," Crowley mused. "Half baked plan, sloppy job. With his other half a brain cell gone he's only doing a half arsed job at being at Demonic handiwork."

"Enough," Beez spat, "Yes, we believe it'zzz Hastur. He hazzn't reported back. You can wait for hizzz return or..."

"No, let's get started," Crowley interrupted. "Gone to the Depths, you think?"

"Spies reported some suspicious activity heading to the Deepest Depths," Dagon said. "Seems pretty obvious."

_"Ugh, The Depths of Hell are bad. But why the Deepest Depths? Because he's Hastur and makes everything miserable."_

Crowley suddenly realized Aziraphale was in the worst place imaginable and would be inundated with pain and unthinkable terror...

"Alright, well, please get me heading in the correct direction. "

Beezlebub nodded at Dagon. 

"Dagon izzz going with you azz a witness. Eric!"

"Here! Here! Here!" The Erics stepped up.

"You go azzz well. If it izzz Hastur, more witnezzzezz are needed."

Dagon unlocked and opened the door as the Erics filed out, loudly postulating what Hastur might plan.

Crowley moved slowly after them.

Beez reseated to their paperwork. 

"Farewell, Crowley. Find your friend and then get the Hell out of Hell."

Crowley gave a quick half smile.

"Yeah. Thanks."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I know 99.9% of Good Omens fans know this, here's a tiny bit of clarification on two points that are in the show;
> 
> Crowley's only real grudge was Eric wanting to eat Aizaraphle at his trial in Heaven in the last episode. This is a DELETED scene that can be found on youtube.  
> In the scene, Eric is excited he's never eaten an Angel and Gabe gives him an all-clear to do it. Of course, it's Crowley in Aziraphale's body, who gives him a death glare and makes Eric rethink his action.
> 
> ALSO-  
> It's easy to miss the first time watching the show that right before the Heaven/Hell escalators there is a pool of water. Aziraphale walks over it, Crowley sinks and reverses to the other side! It's a gorgeous little touch that goes by fast and I even missed the first time. It's not Holy Water, but in this story, Crowley is worried about everything being a trap.  
> ____  
> In this story, Michael is furious that Crowley didn't die from Holy Water and has suspicions. They aren't sure but are trying to get Crowley to blurt out something accidentally to reveal any tricks he might have used.  
> Likewise, Crowley is figuring out they don't have Aziraphale.  
> __________
> 
> And I like to think Eric is just the messenger boy trying to keep everything pleasant when he can.


	3. Everything goes down like a Holy Water balloon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley heads for the Depths and is unstoppable.

There are actual elevators to Hell, and they do go straight as the sayings allude. It's not as bad an affair, as one might think. The worst thing about them is the whole Wwhere-you-are-going-to part. The ride in and of itself is the standard crowded, lurching, ear-popping stuff you get in any elevator. But it's the ones IN Hell that are fiendish. 

They seldom work, no matter what button of the dozens on the panel you mash - .The lift has made up its mind where it may or may not take you,. And being stuck in one was such a common occurrence, most Demons avoided them altogether. 

And don't even ask about the stopping and starting. 

  
  


Dagon led the group to one of the few elevators and punched the down button.

"This one was workin' this morning," they muttered.

Crowley fumed behind his glasses while the Erics were trading tales of worst elevator mishaps. (For the record, many Erics have been disposed of in elevator testings.) 

Dagon had marched Crowley through the few offices as fast as they could, avoiding crowds and apparent places, desperate to keep everything about this low key. But of course, Hell was crawling with Demons, and a few spotted Crowley. Most ran off screaming in fear of THAT Demon, who famously bathed in Holy Water and left Hell for good. A few others spat he was a traitor and a low life to which he could only grouse back, "Jealous? That's high compliments for a Demon."

Though he could hear the gears and pullies screeching behind various doors, he was frustrated how long it would take. They could be standing here for hours listening to the shrapnel symphony. At least it was a diversion from the teeth gnashing.

"Dagon," Crowley barked , cutting over the chatter from Eric(s) "What made you think Aziraphale went this way?"

"Spies reported some activity, and a celestial presence headed this way." Dagon never turned around to talk, continuing to answer at the doors. 

"Before any of us head officials could get a bead on itt, it was gone. But one of the surveillance cameras was working at the time."

"Wow," Crowley breathed. 

"Yeah, " Dagon continued, "Funny how those sodding never work until everyone's job is at stake around here. Anyhow, we believe the Duke and several Demons headed this way, word was they were dragging someone with them."

"Wait, dragging?" Crowley rushed. "Like, how? Was he fighting?"

"I don't know the particulars, Crowley," Dagon moaned in irritation.

"People get 'dragged' to Hell all the time, I've stopped caring about the particulars there. That was my report; What was probably Hastur and a gaggle of Demons came through without reporting, dragging someone who left a celestial disturbance. "

"But... was he... fighting back or being pulled along?"

Dagon gave no answer, but one Eric suddenly piped up.

"I believe the report said 'Dragging a body'..."

"Eric!" warned Dagon coldly with a threat of instant disposing- of clear in their voice.

"What?!" hissed Crowley. 

"Yeah, " another Eric helpfully added. "The report actually said that. Uh huh." 

Crowley hissed and leaned closer to Dagon. 

"If there's anything you are not telling me here, Dagon, you'd better let me know now."

"Crowley, he obviously is not dead," they snapped back. "You'd know. Doesn't matter, does it? You chase after his lifeless body anyhow."

  
  


Crowley knew it was useless to argue more. He had to get to Aziraphale, and he couldn't wait any longer.

The moment was answered with a terrifying grinding and lights flickering as the doors screeched open to an empty lift.

Dagon gestured- .

"All aboard."

The Erics filed in, and Crowley stalked behind. Dagon stepped in and smashed the lowest button. The doors shrieked shut part way and froze. 

Crowley snarled and rolled his head.

"For Satan's sake."

Dagon slammed the button once more, but the doors wouldn't budge.

"Maybe," one of the Erics offered, "you could, hmmm, hit another button and see if the elevator responds differently?"

"No, it's the door," another Eric observed. "Good and stuck. If we pull it together, I'll bet this thing will get going."

"Ahh, bit of advice," the third Eric nervously injected, "Careful with those doors. They look slow and harmless, but my goodness! I think they are possessed and will bite off fingers. We should call for maintenance and..."

"Enough! " Dagon yelled. "Eric, stick your fingers in there and tease this bloody thing to go then."

The trio silenced, looking back and forth for the Eric of choice.

_"I'm about ready to walk."_ Crowley moaned internally.

He lunged forward and thrust his fingers in the open space. Faster than a mortal eye could blink, the doors snapped shut with a hellish animal growl. Everyone jumped in reaction, except for Crowley, who was now at the elevator's back, arms crossed.

"Good job! Nice work! Thanks!" The Erics applauded.

Crowley nodded cooly and grabbed the interior railing.

"And you'd better hold on, this elevator is thoroughly pissed off..."

As if the floor suddenly went out from under them, the elevator shot downwards. Straighter than any elevator straight to Hell.

______________________________

"You better be bloody careful with that," Hastur fiercely warned the Lesser Demon nervously pouring the pitcher.

"You ain't seen this stuff work. I have."

"I saw it work in the bloody book shop," the Lesser Demon muttered back. 

"Yeah, you ain't see the real stuff at work, stupid. "

"It was bad enough!" whimpered the other Lesser Demon holding open the water balloon.

"Eh, well," Hastur preened, "It should be enough to do what I need."

"But, Oh Duke of Hell?" a third Demon asked, "How so? Didn't The Traitor Serpent Crawley defy Holy Water before?"

"Yeah, sure did. But my connection said they were suspicious, and it was worth a try." Hastur took another drag from his cigarette. "Seems like the creep would figger' out something like that. Almost done?"

The Lesser Demons were completing the terrifying task of filling a balloon with water from a glass pitcher. Though all three donned rubber gloves and aprons, the shuddering and shaking were enough to render the task difficult. 

"Almost got one!" one of the demons announced.

Hastur grunted, looking back into the next room.

"Well, hurry, he's gonna catch up quick."

The Demonic Trio continued their terrifying handiwork as Hastur opened the door to the next room to check on the captive.

The Angel lay on the floor. He hadn't moved from where he had been dropped, his hands still tied behind his back, the blindfold still around his eyes.

"Aye, Sunshine, you still there?"

He nudged the Angel with his foot, but there was no reaction.

Hastur fretted a little that the Angel hadn't been very lively since he left him in this room. 

He squatted down and listened. The breathing was there, so was something of a heartbeat.

"Hey, white feathers," he urged, poking a shoulder. "Better get up soon. When your boyfriend comes to rescue ya and all."

Aziraphale didn't move.

"For the love of it, don't be dead. I ain't got nothin' to deal with that."

He reached out and yanked off the blindfold. The Angel’s eyes were still closed with his round face slumped against the ground.

Hastur groaned, poking the shoulder again before reaching out to yank off the rope from around the wrists. The hands fell limply to Aziraphale's side. Hastur scoffed.

"Yeah, well, he'll still want you, half dead or not."

_________________

It took several minutes for Crowley, Dagon, and the Erics to pry the elevator doors apart after it crashed to the bottom of The Depths of Hell. Crowley peeled out into the new darkness and peered around. Endless, barely lit halls with doors. It was stretching in every and any direction.

Crowley groaned.

_"It's been so many years since I've been here and even for Hell, this place is the worst."_

Dagon barked that one of the Erics should stay and hold the elevator. Their logic was it would be a quick operation, and no one would want to wait for a damn elevator. After a round of rock, paper, scissors, the chosen Eric was selected as the other two followed Dagon.

Crowley began pacing down a hall, looking back and forth.

Dagon observed, and he realized they had no idea where to go from here.

"Up to me. Aziraphale, please, where are you?"

Crowley walked to the nearest door and grabbed the knob and began turning to no avail.

"Can't open them," Dagon said, coming towards him. "I have one of The Keys."

They pulled out a key and pushed it in the lock, and the door creaked open to an empty room.

_"Ah. The Key, Opens any and all doors in Hell. Even lets you out of Hell. Only a few of them were given to the top brass. Wish I had one."_

Dagon closed the door.

"Alright," they resumed, looking at Crowley, "Better start looking quick. Where do ya' think he is? Can you send out a message or somethin'?"

Crowley glared back. He had no idea, and there were thousands of doors.

Aziraphale was clearly alive but incapacitated.

"I'm trying," hissed Crowley, staring down the hall.

"Well, better do more than trying. Few more hours The Unholy Man Himself will figger it out, and he won't be happy to see you at all."

Crowley continued to move down a hall.

_"Where... where.... Aziraphale, please, try and reach me."_

Crowley closed his eyes and smelled deeply. He flicked his tongue out once, trying to scent the air with his snake senses.

He got something. Close. He closed his eyes and walked forward, smelling deep. Dagon hung back and gave him space.

"On to something, Traitor?" they pressed after a few moments. 

Crowley was drawn to the filthy floor and reached out to touch. 

He swiped against the ground and brought the fingers up to his nose.

_"Another drop of blood. So new."_

Crowley rose up, heaving loudly, clutching the piece of pipe he had grabbed as defense.

"On to somethin'?" Dagon eagerly pressed again.

Crowley didn't answer, but roiled internally.

_"He's so hurt, So close. Hastur, what have you done to him?"_

Crowley looked back at his hand clutching the pipe and saw scales popping back on the back of it. He raced down the hall that felt like an illusion. He turned left. Right. 

_"Everywhere looks the same."_

Pausing to catch his breath, he listened above the dead stillness and Dagon's protesting to wait. He grabbed a random knob to no avail. He lurched to another door and opened it with no contest. He stepped into an identical room and felt the hunch for another door. He reached out and it opened.

_"He's not locking the doors behind himself. He has his own key and just is racing deeper and deeper to the Depths. He either doesn’t care if I follow or is lazy."_

"Dagon!" barked Crowley, "He's not locking doors! Just find the open ones! Follow me!"

Crowley was intuitively seeking out the unlocked doors so fast Dagon and the Erics were left behind.

He heard something. Something. 

Aziraphale was calling out so faintly. Not with his actual voice but another, inner one.

"AZIRAPHALE!" Crowley cried out, listening to the metallic echo of his voice bouncing around endlessly.

Then he smelt it -; cigarette smoke. 

_______________________________________________

The demons had started pouring another balloon when a sound made them all jump.

Someone at the door shouting and pounding.

They called for Hastur, who stepped into the room.

"Bugger," he snorted, tossing his cigarette aside and closing the inner door behind himself. "So fast. How many of them things ya' got?"

"Filling another, oh Duke!" one of the Demons announced as the door pushed open.

The red headed black clad slim demon loomed in the doorway.\

"HASTUR!" he yelle..

"Crowley!" Hastur greeted holding up a hand. "Not-so-long time-no-see! How's the Earthly life treating ya?"

"Hastur, cut it," Crowley warned, stepping in. "Hand over the Angel now or I swear..."

"You'll what?"

Crowley slipped his gaze over to the frightened Demonic trinity with a pitcher that screamed a fast death.

_"Oh god, Michael_ _did_ _give him Holy Water. Smart idiot knows we did something and wants another shot. FUCK. How do I bluff through this..."_

"What's the matter?" Hastur leered, catching Crowley's glance. "A little Holy Water scare ya?"

"Of course not," Crowley postured, brandishing the pipe. "What idiot would think something like that would work against..."

"Let's test it then!" Hastur looked overjoyed to carry out his words. "FIRE!"

Crowley turned as he barely comprehended one of the lesser Demons had thrown something at him.

The whole world moved in a slowed down fashion as a bright blob sailed his way.

_"Oh, it's a water balloon..."_

Crowley had been raising his pipe for a swing and couldn't stop the momentum as the pipe impacted the colorful blob like form. 

_"No, don't pop, please..."_

Water sprayed everywhere as Hastur whooped and Crowley recoiled.

_"No, no, Aziraphale, I'm sorry..."_

The crest of droplets arched around and on Crowley, who flung his arms up in front of his face.

Nothing happened.

The room went silent except for a splatter of water droplets falling off Crowley.

It was just water.

Crowley couldn't begin to imagine what had happened, and guessed Michael had given them regular water for other purposes. Whatever the true meaning, he knew he had to act fast.

He righted himself and shook his sleeves.

"Ahh, Hastur," he wobbly declared, "Really? REALLY? Holy Water? You know that's not a problem. And your little friend probably gave you a bum batch for shits and giggles."

"Bum batch?!" Hastur screamed.

"Well, maybe it is, " one of the Lesser Demon speculated as they reached in the pitcher. "It seemed pretty normal while.... AHHHHH!!!"

As the Demon touched a finger tip to the pitcher contents, there was only screaming and a melting mass. The other Demons recoiled, dropping the pitcher in terror, whereupon it shattered on the floor. The arching spread of droplets rendered the other Lessers Demons to smoking masses, leaving only the Duke of Hell shrieking by himself.

Crowley could feel the pressing heat from that liquid which hadn’t reached him.

_“THAT batch feels real. I don’t get it.”_

It dispersed and drifted away.

_"What happened? Am I truly immune to Holy Water? No matter, no to deal with Hastur."_

Hastur clutched his face trying to compose himself, hyperventilating.

"Enough?" Crowley gloated. "Or you want further demonstrations?" 

"Just... just, stay away from me!" Hastur pitifully warned.

"I will if you return my friend."

"In there!" Hastur barked, pointing to the door behind himself.

"Ain't worth what the Angels promised! Everything has gone to the dogs!"

"Hastur, calm done my friend and step the bloody Hell aside." 

Crowley stepped closer.

Hastur was darting to the side but kept shrieking to himself.

"HOW?! You are a Demon?! HOW DO YOU DO THAT?!"

"You wanna find out?" Crowley snarled as he advanced. 

Hastur shook his head and hung to the side. 

Crowley flashed his teeth as he pressed by, opening the door to another dingy nondescript room.

There he was, on the floor. 

Crowley's full senses erupted with a fluttering feeling seeing his brightly clad form again in this dark and inanimate world. Like a star in the night.

"Aziraphale!' he cried out.

Aziraphale didn't move. He was slumped on a side like he had been dumped there, his mouth slightly agape, hands listless and upturned. 

Hastur, moving like a specter, slammed in front of him, threateningly.

"Move, Hastur," Crowley warned. "If he's hurt I swear...."

"Hey," Hastur mocked, holding his hands up, "I promise he's still breathing. I mean, I had to beat the tar out of 'im to get him down here. Not saying I didn't break nothing, but I can promise you he still can breathe on his own."

Crowley's eyes darted back, and the more he looked, the more he panicked.

It truly looked like his body had been dumped with no thought or care. 

Crowley loomed closer.

"Let me see him, Hastur. Move."

Hastur still stood.

"Ya' see 'im fine. He ain't dead. Probably wishes he was."

An ominous grin went across his face.

"Such a nice fellow. So easy to scare and threaten..."

"Cut it," Crowley hissed. "You used a helpless human as a shield to take advantage of him. You worked with another Angel who hates him. He would have smote you the first chance he got."

Hastur shrugged.

"Hey, if that's the case, my actions were justified. Can't be too careful around stupid smiting angels, right?"

"Just move. Now."

"Mmm, Yanno, Crowley, maybe not. Maybe there's a matter here beyond us with Heaven and Hell that we need to finish."

Hastur grabbed his own pipe and stood in the doorway.

Crowley rose taller, scales tiling over his hands and face. 

"Then," he hissed between his teeth, "Finissssh it."

______________

  
  


Crowley hadn't taken this True Form in thousands of years. There was no need

Angels had their celestial given form. So did Fallen Angels. Both were Ethereal Beings of the same stock, Heaven or Hell it really did not matter.

The very first time he actually discovered his no-longer-Celestial-but-still-Almighty-Form it was back in Eden.

After several days of meeting Aziraphale in the Beginning, he began taking walks with him, just to talk. Through their growing trust, their conversations drifted into their occupations as an Angel and a Demon. And it further drifted to celestial, occult, and ethereal forms. Crowley (Crawley at that time) wasn't sure at that point if he still had one after Falling, and was curious about what the Principality's form would look like. With his permission, Aziraphale eagerly displayed his.

Of course, he was impressed. But also as a Demon, he also was struck to the heart with terror and a new given fear that came with being Demon seeing an Angel like that. As Azirphale brought forth heavenly light, great spinning rings of power, the touch of hundreds of hands reaching out to feel Crowley's corporation, a voice of hundreds from the sky, and dozens of eyes that saw through Crowley's soul, Crowley couldn't stop his response.

He cowered despite Aziraphale's booming voices there was nothing to fear, and then erupted into a serpentine creature from Hell. Aziraphale had seen him as a snake before. But this wasn't merely a snake, but a demonic form mixing man and serpent. Something that would inspire myth and legends for ages. A long slithering black body devoid of legs and underscored with red, thin gripping arms with slender fingers to match, a bestial serpentine face, and dozens of miniature flailing snakes instead of hair. 

The last thing Azriphale saw (with his many eyes) was all the snake mouths opened in screaming terror before Crowley bolted away.

Aziraphale quickly resumed his regular mortal outer form, but Crowley was gone. It took him hours before he found him up one of the tallest trees, still in the Hellish form wrapping his body around the trunk and a branch. 

Aziraphale spent hours below apologising and trying to bring his friend down. Crowley had only known such terror when he Fell, and couldn't shake out of the form so easily. So in addition to his intuitive terror of a Heavenly being, he was ashamed to face Aziraphale like an ugly beast, remaining up the tree hoping Aziraphale would leave him at some point. 

He never did.

After several hours below, just talking, Aziraphale alighted to the branch, sitting a few feet away, offering Crowley to sit with him. Many more hours passed before Crowley unwound from the tree trunk and slid closer and closer. It became very obvious Aziraphale wasn't scared, nor upset with him in any way, and rather wanted to see him like that. Even though Crowley kept his eyes down, he discovered his snake hair was like any inner emotions he felt spilling out. The little snakes leaned over when Azirpahle offered a hand to sniff. A few hissed, but others leaned over to touch. Soon they were wrapping around the angel’s hand, making happy squeaks (much to Crowley's embarrassment). Crowley slowly lifted his gaze to see Azirphale grinning with affection at the small creatures, and he felt his uncertainty melt away. 

"You are wonderful," Aziraphale announced, staring with adoration . From that day on, no matter how they disagreed, quarreled, broke apart and came back together, Crowley felt like he finally stopped plummeting from his Fall and found his place and someone who liked him.

Whenever Crowley might display even a partial reaction in his Demonic form, Azirphale hasn't reacted with shock once. Crowley often changed into a snake, small and discreet or biblically oversized. But that was natural, easy, and even fun. Aziraphale still talked and treated him like a person. But Crowley rarely unleashed his True Form. Sure, he'd give glimpses of it when startled or angered. That was fun; humans usually fainted. 

But over the time of six thousand years, there were remarkably few times.

___

In a few seconds, Crowley's whole body convulsed and seemed to fly apart before Hasturs eyes, tiling over with black shimmering scales and red overlapping long plates up his stomach. Gritted teeth in his mouth enlarged and became sabers. The arms lengthened . His hair seemed to flow and come alive e length of his body whipped into a sinewy writhing tail, extending much longer than even his not-insignificant height., 

Hastur snorted, never losing contact with the eyes, which seemed to be the only unchanging thing.

Crowley's mouth unhinged in a feral snarl as a warning.

Hastur flatly raised his hands in a gesture of relenting.

"Yeah, hey, don't get all worked up..."

"JUSSST MOVE!" Crowley hissed, jumping in a warning.

Crowley leaned down to Hasturs face and pressed along there as he sidestepped, hands still up.

  
  


Crowley whipped back and turned to the unmoving form on the ground

He slid up to it and leaned down, reaching out a hand. He was shocked that Aziraphale seemed so much smaller now. More than usual, he was the taller one even in his normal form. But his thin bestial hand more than covered a shoulder as he firmly grasped it. 

"Azzziraphaaale," he hissed, leaning closer. He shook again as the small snakes lashed forward excitedly.

Nothing.

He rolled Aziraphale carefully and saw no change. The limp figure rolled on it's back as the mouth slid open slightly. Everything about him was listless.

Crowley felt his neck and the pulse was low, the body felt cool.

"Azziraphaaale! Pleeeasssse!" 

He leaned closer to smell and feel.

The frame felt heavy and broken. He smelled pain mixed with all the familiar scents. He gently cradled the head and shoulders in his oversized hands and rolled him over. The body pressure was frightening to Crowley; there wasn't any living resistance.

The snakes on his head struck forward and started pressing around the angel’s face tenderly. No reaction, the eyes didn't even twitch.

Crowley gaped and gagged deep in his throat.

 _"No. He's alive. But so hurt_.“ 

He pulled closer, still holding his head and upper body in one arm, while his hand felt out for one of fo Aziraphale's hands. He seized it and squeezed, but no response came. He grappled the body closer with a growl and squinted hard.

_"Pleeassse, Aziraphale, please wake up. I'm taking you back."_

Hastur started laughing maniacally.

Crowley couldn't hold back and scooped up the body as carefully as possible. He was panicked but knew that he didn't want to cause more pain if there were broken bones.

He lifted the form up, bringing the face up to his. 

_"Pleassse. Aziraphale."_

He was greeted with a horrible swath of blood on Aziraphale's forehead trailed down the side of his face 

The hair serpents hovered around, piping quietly like a question;

_"Who would do this to him? Is he hurt badly? "_

He cradled him hard, the small snakes all pressing down as far as they could..

_"We're going to leave now. All that matters is I found you and I will fix you up You'll be back to your old self. All tickety boo."_

Hasturs mad laughter shattered the moment.

Crowley glared at him, and the little serpents all whipped around and hissed in unison.

"Oh haha, oh.... Cr---ha.. Crowley! Really! You both make such an adorable lil' Valentine together! Really!"

Crowley growled and held Aziraphale closer.

"Aww, really. Do you do anything together like that? Seriously? Like, I'll bet you drive him crazy .”

Crowley knew Hastur was just goading him but felt anything he might do was earned. Several of the hair snakes began hissing madly in Hasturs direction.

"Aww, I mean, not judgin' too much, but does he like you like that? Huh? Sweet nothins' in your ear and making out? The like?"

More little snakes joined in violently hissing. Several still pressed and whimpered at the inert angel’s face, trying to wake him.

Crowley slowly placed Aziraphale back down, going against his instincts, desperate to hold him and knowing the risk, but needing to finish this he didn't care.

He loomed as the small serpents began shrieking and lashing out while he glided closer.

"Hey, you ain't runnin' like you usually do," Hastur goaded, swinging his pipe back and forth. "I mean, you always did, run and hide, dump holy water on innocent demons. The like. And then run to save your lover boy there..."

Hastur was cut off as Crowley sprung forward and hooked him tight. Hastur shrieked as the oversized clawed hands dug in and tried to yank him apart. There was an explosion and Crowley was grappling nothing as millions of maggots shattered into a pile. Crowley pulled back with a hiss as the writhing mass blew around like leaves in the wind, circling behind him.

_"No, I can't let him get to...."_

Crowley was interrupted as a pipe blow landed on the back of his head.

The small snakes screeched. Crowley yowled.

Hastur was about to deliver another blow but l the snakes stabbed out and bit his hand. More joined in despite Hasturs pulling. 

Crowley heard the sibilant shriek as they refused to unclasp and violently yanked.

"Ahh!! Stop it you creep!!! Ahh!!" 

Crowley could only see Hastur out of the corner of his eye but naturally felt all the little satisfying bites all over the fist as the pipe rolled to the floor.

Just then the two Erics entered the room and stopped in the doorway looking thunderstruck.

"Get him!" Crowley yelled, whipping his lower body around to stave off Hasturs kicking.

Both Erics looked at each other.

"You! Don't you dare!" Hastur screeched, beating at the snakes with his free fist. "If you do I swear I'll destroy you to the point of.. AHH!"

Crowley managed to turn his head around and lunged, opening his mouth. He clamped on Hastur’s arm. 

The Erics backed up mortified and wide-eyed, Hastur’s screams went up and octave.

He struggled while Crowley's body still lashed around, but it was clear he was cemented.

"Crowley! Stop! I swear I'll... I'll.... I'll tell everyone!"

Crowley let out an amused chuckle around his teeth, 

and Hastur cowered.

_"Perfect. He really is a coward and not much of a fighter."_

Crowley moved his oversized hands to grab Hastur's other arm and yank it roughly behind his back. Releasing 

his bite, Crowley leaned into Hastur’s delirious face, dozens of little angry beady eyes circling his giant golden ones.

"Neeeveeer bother ussss again. Thisss issss you lassst warning. Got it?"

He shook the arm at the last word and yanked hard. Hastur nodded. 

"And you can tell YOUR Angel friendssss thisss; Go to Hell."

He flung Hastur to the floor and slid away to Aziraphale.

The Angel hadn't moved at all. Crowley smoothly reached under the body to lift it. He pulled it up to his chest and pressed his face into the vest. The small snakes made the softest little squeaks and Crowley noticed a small rainshower of tears as they pressed everywhere they could against Aziraphale.

"Awwww," the Erics said in unison. "They really are cute. Very. I mean, just look at them..."

"Let'sss go!" Crowley barked, moving to the door.

The Erics filed out. Hastur stood to follow, but Crowley slammed the door shut with his tail. 

The doorknob rattled, and Hastur pounded.

"Hey! Don't you bloody leave me! Crowley, I swear, I will tell a Higher authority! I'll have you crucified! Now let me out!! Where is my bloody key?! Crowley!!!"

There was more shrieking and pounding as it appeared Hastur was stuck in the small room.

"Keep him here," Crowley snapped at the Erics, "Until Dagon arrivesss."

"Right. Right." The Erics nodded. 

Crowley slid out to the hall.

"Nice seeing you, Crowley!" one of the Erics called out. "Yes, uh, pleasant trip! And uh, good luck with your friend!"

"Thanksss," Crowley yelled back as he shot up the hall.

___________________________

The sooner he got out of Hell, the better. 

He literally turned the first corner straight into Dagon.

Dagon They were was looking exhausted and momentarily scared at the sight of a giant snake demon. Then they relaxed with relief when they spotted Aziraphale. 

"Got 'im?"

"Yessss," Crowley hissed. "Eric hasss Hastur. He appearsss to be ssstuck. Thank you for your help, Dagon. I ssshall leave."

"Likewise," Dagon replied, strolling away.

Crowley shot around every bend and corner, through every door and hall.

The trip seemed much shorter, but it was still long. He knew every corner of Hell like it was scribed into his soul (probably was) but felt the breath of time on his neck.

_"Hurry. Hurry. Before someone worse knows we're here. Hurry. Must get him home. Home. We picked the World, that's our home."_

Crowley flew to the elevator where the remaining Eric waited. Eric got up at Crowley's sound approaching but gasped and pressed to the back as the Demon slid in. Crowley barely squashed his bulk in and waited. After a quiet moment, Crowley stared at the petrified Eric. 

"Pleeaaassse push the button, will you?" he growled.

"Right!" Eric cheerily lunged over a coil of the black scaly tail and slammed the top button multiple times. The doors creaked close, and the lift shuddered as it ascended.

_"This will be such a long ride. It's so difficult going up in Hell already."_

Crowley focused back on Aziraphale and couldn't have felt any more trapped. The face hadn't changed. There was no response. The small snakes began whimpering again and pressing around the face lightly. 

_"Please, please be alright."_

The elevator lurched and threatened to stop .

Crowley growled and clutched Aziraphale tighter. 

Eric snapped his fingers, and the ride resumed.

"Ah, let's just say," Eric cheerily explained with a wink, "I really don't need to have to explain to a higher authority why I'm stuck in an elevator with you. And an Angel. So, a Demonic miracle isn't out of the question."

Crowley nodded with mild gratitude.

Eventually, they reached the top, and the doors squealed open.

"Thanksss," Crowley yelled as he shot away.

He tore through the top halls, past crowds, and rooms, not stopping. He wondered if he was supposed to stop and talk with Beezlebub, but didn't want to waste that time.

" _I did what they needed, I am leaving."_

He made it to the escalator and was surprised to see the Prince of Darkness standing beside it.

They nodded as Crowley approached unslowing, showing no surprise.

"Good work. Hazzztur will be dealt with."

"Yeaaah, Now I ssshall leave you to that."

Crowley passed by, his hearing becoming gauzy as he slid upward.

"Until next time, Crowley," he barely heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley can take a snake form, Crowley can take a half human Naga form. But I would say this form is totally his True Form and is almost fully reptilian.


	4. To fall down at your door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And a chapter mostly dedicated to talk and time together for our heroes. Mushy, and I throw 2 great songs in for good measure. ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale make it back to the Bookshop and go over the events. Mushy, but hey, I wouldn't have it any other way,

Bookmatching the other end of the escalator, much to Crowley's surprise, were Gabriel and Sandalphon. 

They were mid-conversation, not noticing him until he crested the top panting for breath.

They both lifted their faces from the conversation in unison, freezing. Crowley wished he could capture their reactions for Aziraphale to see.

Sandalphon leaned back further on his bulky frame and cocked his head. Gabriel forced one of his grins, but the repugnant tinge was unavoidable. 

"AH," he greeted, " Demon Crowley, I do believe! Long time no...."

Crowley snapped, letting his jaw unhinge to it's most extensive as his hair joining in shrieking and lashing out. Sandalphon turned and covered his mouth like he had seen a rotten corpse. Gabe barely could feign any sort of politeness.

"You! We sssaid to leave usss alone!! What do you want of ussss?!"

"I HAVE left you alone!" Gabe incredulously gasped. "Really."

"We had nothing to do with any of this," Sandalphon assured. "Just a misunderstanding..."

"YEAH? I ssseee Michael desssided not to show."

"They said your behavior was must unsavory and..."

Crowley yelled again, making the Angels jump.

"Well, then Hassstur and them make a perfect pair!! We'll sssseee how he fairssss in the eyesss of Hell."

Gabe and Sandalphon shot each other a look.

"Crowley, my friend," Gabe offered as he stepped forward,

"Let's just move on. I'll bet that's what your old team asked of you, hmm? It would be better if we could just put aside some of these personal problems and..."

"Leave usss," Crowley hissed, holding his Angel tighter.

"You lulled us into thisss, didn't you? Made ussss feel like you weren't watching, when you were? Both through Hell and other meansss. Using innocent humanssss."

Gabe tipped his head and stepped closer, gesturing with his hands.

"Crowley, you must be mistaken. We at Heaven would never devolve into such backhanded methods like your friend, our former Principality Aziraphale-" he gestured to the limp body, "-would."

"Jusssst leave," Crowley snarled, pulling up more coils of his tail between them as a barrier. 

"Shame, I really wanted to talk to Aziraphale, hear his opinion about this..."

"LEAVE!" 

Sandalphon pushed closer.

"Crowley, we only worry about his state. He appears to be very hurt. Let us help if we can."

"Yes!" Gabe approved. "This isn't personal at all! An Angel only wants help another Angel. Even a Fallen One sometimes. Come to Heaven with him; he'll be fixed up. Hey, your bravery might even earn you something. A once damned soul could have another shot at redemption, risking his life to save an innocent. I'd say that's Angelic, don't you?"

He turned to Sandalphon, and they nodded cattily together.

Crowley was bewildered.

_"They want us both. Maybe to try us again. Maybe to hurt us. Maybe they are scared and now want to make us side with them, as weapons or tools. I have no idea what their plan was. They are saying I could become an Angel again?"_

Crowley blinked and looked down at the unconscious face.

The white curls, the round cheeks. The upturned nose and Cupid bow mouth he recognized from the first day they met.

_"No, they would tear us apart. And they hurt you to do it. They still want to get to him especially."_

"Jusst go," Crowley growled, turning away. "Never bother us again."

"That might not be possible, big guy," Gabe sighed heartily.

"Well, FUCKING TRY," Crowley snarled back.

"Until we meet on those Shores," Gabriel called as he stepped on the escalator. "And the Good Lord calls you both home."

"I am home," Crowley thought. "If there is a God and I know there is, well, they would know that. "

Crowley settled down in a corner of the Lobby and accepted he had to wait until he could shake this form. It wasn't easy, he was so worked up it would linger until he felt unthreatened. Or calmer. 

He cradled Aziraphale closer, staring at the side of his face. He cautiously brushed it and raked thought his hair. 

_"No response. What if he's paralyzed? Or, more of, his corporation is?"_

Aziraphale could heal injuries with touch, all Angels could. 

_"I was one. If anything, I should try one place and see if that it works If he got hit in the head that's the best place to start."_

  
  


He laid his slim fingers on Azirphale's forehead. The whole hand could wrap around his skull easily. 

Crowley closed his eyes and tried to remember the Healing Touch.

He was sure he was doing the right thing, he could feel something. He concentrated, knowing he was supposed to focus on a singular problem specifically, yet he had no concrete idea what it was.

 _"Just... all of your head. Back to the way it was. Anything apart come together. Please._ "

To his delight, Aziraphale began rocking his neck a little after just a moment. The little snakes chirped and pressed in against his face excitedly. Aziraphale didn't wake, but Crowley saw his eyes moving behind the lids. His mouth gave a subtle twitch. The small snakes all shrieked in joy, which brought the strongest reaction yet as Aziraphale winced softly and turned his face away. They continued to jabber until Crowley hissed as he put the Touch to Aziraphale's neck and shoulders.

"Shsssshh! For goodnesss ssssakesss! Let him sssleep!"

There was a chorus of apologetic little squeaks as they quietly drifted around his face. Crowley himself was feeling exhaustion seeping through his body.

He pulled up more of his coils for both of them to settle on. He swore he would just rest his eyes for a few minutes. Just a few, maybe he'd look more human when he woke. 

  
  


Crowley hadn't drifted off long when he felt something brush his chin. He sensed his small snakes excitedly pulling outward as he opened his eyes.

Aziraphale was reaching up and touching the side of Crowley's face, which erupted into a fangy grin.

"Azzziraphale!" he whispered. 

The Angel blinked painfully but smiled.

"Hello," he murmured, reaching out further to touch the small snakes that swarmed his fingers, making peeping noises.

Crowley felt warmth invade his chest.

"Are you alright?"

"Hurt," Aziraphale whispered.

"Where? Tell me Angel, I'll fixxx it."

Azirpahel muttered something. 

"What?" Crowley asked leaning closer, making the small snake whip around in a boiling frenzy.

"You. So wonderful," Aziraphale wheezed.

Crowley grinned as his hair surged around the outstretched hand.

The little faces pressed and chittered against the fingers.

" 'Not really, Angel. I'm kind of hideoussss right now."

"No, " Aziraphale sighed. "It's you. Always just you. I thought you were so perfect." He coughed raggedly. 

Crowley panicked.

" _He's in such bad shape. Alright, wild guess, let's try the chest."_

Crowley laid an oversized hand across his chest and stirred more memories of how to apply a Healing Touch. After a few seconds, he knew he was doing something right as Aziraphale squeezed his eyes with a gasp and arched into his hand. Then his whole body went lax with a sigh.

"Thank you, Crowley," he said louder. 

"That helped, Probably had some broken ribs."

Crowley looked back to the pale face with a gentle smile.

He could feel the Demonic Form receding.

"Crowley," Aziraphale said with sudden urgency, reaching up to rake his fingers through his snake hair.

"Yessss?"

"It doesn't matter how you appear to me; you know this?"

His fingers moved lovingly through the snakes, which reciprocated by pressing back and chirping louder.

"I can always see you just the same as the first time I laid my eyes on you."

The little snakes chittered shrilly. Crowley unexpectedly blinked back tears. 

He felt his Form reverting with the surge of feelings.

"Aziraphale," he rushed, "Pleassse, don't worry yoursself, Just resssst and we'll be back..."

"I am relaxed. I'm not worried. I am with my best friend, who risked his life for me." He closed his eyes, smiling.

Melancholy feelings tore through Crowley.

"He has never treated me as an equal for only my outward appearance. He just sees ME. And he loves that. Aziraphale, you are the purest definition of an Angel, and Heaven couldn't tolerate you for that. "

He hugged Aziraphale tighter, unable to speak, overjoyed when he felt a soft arm loop over his neck and press back.

________

It was the middle of the night before Crowley was human enough looking that he dared to venture out. He cared little for what people would have thought, but the sight of a 30 foot long Snake Demon in an antique vehicle with an injured passenger was too much even for the most jaded. Despite the temptation to cause chaos, it wasn't worth the risk.

Crowley rose, still clutching Aziraphale.

"Hey," he whispered, the words bouncing around the sterile glass room, "Ready to go back?"

Aziraphale had drifted off, but looked less pained in his sleep.

Crowley strode out from the hyper- bright lights inside to darkness outside.

He approached the Bentley. The passenger side door swung open with no prompting or mircales.

"Thanks, " he muttered as he deposited his Angel.

He miracled up a seat belt and forced the seat to lean back slightly.

Leaping into the driver's side, he yanked up Aziraphale's crumpled overcoat he had packed along.

"Let's go home, Angel," he whispered as he draped it across his front.

" _Home? Where? Will the Shop be too much after the days events? Maybe my place... no, let's go to his Shop. It's his world, he'll feel safe."_

Crowley hit the radio knob, and there was a squeal of radio static.

"Hey!" Dagon's voice suddenly erupted. "Did you finish the task?"

"Almost," Hissed Crowley. "Don't raise your voice. He's sleeping."

Dagon cackled.

"Yeah, alright. Funny thing, Hastur hasn't reported in."

"Hmmm, guess he's busy lurking about," Crowley muttered.

"Yeah, well, Beez won't say it so told me to say it; Good job, traitor."

"Yeah, thanks."

"And Zir also said if you ever change your mind and want your old job back, don't think twice. And bring your friend. It seems he's terrified the lot down 'ere."

Crowley huffed, slightly flattered. He gazed over at Aziraphale, content in his rest. 

" _No, I have all I ever wanted and more._

. "Yeah, well, until next time Dagon. Stay in trouble."

"Likewise, snake."

The radio cut off and Queen music filled the car softly as the engine started.

" _It started off so well_

_They said we made a perfect pair_

_I clothed myself in your glory and your love_

_How I loved you_

_How I cried"_

Crowley scoffed.

"Yeah, uhm, " he grumbled aloud, "This is a song about breaking up, not actual rescuing, thanks for the thought though."

He maneuvered each steer slowly and carefully, avoiding any sharp turns and stops. 

_"I love you till I die_

_Save me save me save me_

_I can't face this life alone_

_Save me save me save me_

_I'm naked and I'm far from home."_

Crowley winced and glanced over at Aziraphale, still asleep and looking more angelic than ever. 

Nausea of some immortal sort gripped him by the middle the more he thought howe much he took for granted seeing that face. How he could have never seen it again.

" _I don't deserve you as a friend, but I'd do it all again. Because you'd do it for me. I know it. If Angels tied me in a sack and took me back to Heaven, you'd be there, fire and brimstone. I know it. Smiting like crazy."_

He glanced over again and nearly stomped the brakes seeing Aziraphale's eyes open, gazing serenely back. 

Crowley blinked.

"Angel?

Aziraphale shone with a calm smile as Crowley lurched the car to the curb. Both raised their arms and leaned into the other.

".... _Save me, save me."_

"Shut it, I did that, " Crowley hissed, slamming an arm back to the dash, turning the radio off.

  
  


____________________________

Crowley bustled into the Bookshop carrying Aziraphale. He was happy there were few passing people when he had to carry him in, and it looked more like he was bringing a drunken friend back to his shop. Perfect disguise, even though a bit of scrutiny at the sight of a large man being carried with the ease of a baby by a tall person in sunglasses in the middle of the night should have roused some suspicion. 

The moment the doors closed behind them, Aziraphale stirred a bit.

_"He knows he's back."_

Crowley headed for the staircase and ascended softly to Aziraphale's room. Once inside, he snapped on the bedside lamp and gently deposited Aziraphale on the bed with a plush Tartan comforter. Crowley quickly removed his shoes and socks, then worked off the tie and vest. Aziraphale would occasionally open his eyes slightly to blink before closing them again. Crowley decided to expedite the next part and snapped up a pitcher of warm water and cloth onto the nightstand. He dabbed gently on Aziraphe's face, removing the blood and dirt. Then Crowley took a deep breath.

"Just do this part and get it over with."

He snapped to remove Aziraphale's shirt and trousers, and the sight made Crowley clutch himself when he saw the minefield of bruises over the soft skin. He carefully brushed the cloth around, trying not to erupt in an uncontrollable fury again. Aziraphale would twitch or inhale if Crowley pressed any of the dark spots, so he took extra care to avoid them. When he finished, he shakily reached out and touched the nearest arm.

"I'm not even sure what I want to heal. I just... want you better. Even if it's just bruising. I want them gone."

Concentrating, he spread his Touch over the body and worked away the most painful spots he could find. Crowley was only working for a few seconds and he already began to feel drowsy. Angels could Heal infinitely, he couldn't. On top of the stress, fighting, and going to and from Hell, he was drained. 

"Hopefully you'll feel better," he murmured. 

Aziraphale turned his face towards him the tiniest bit, which was enough of an acknowledgment for Crowley. He snapped on Aziraphale's nightclothes and snapped again to haste him under the covers.

Aziraphale audibly let out a sigh that was the final indicator that he was comfortable.

Crowley quietly pulled over a reading chair beside the bed, seated in it wearily, and clicked off the lamp.

He leaned his elbows on his knees and narrowed his slitted eyes halfway shut, staring over the form under the blankets for most of the remainder of the night.

  
  
  
  


________________________

Aziraphale stirred after a day and glanced around his room calmly. He grinned softly as his eyes followed over to the source of the snoring beside him. Crowley had a chair beside the bed and was fast asleep. Though he was more of less sitting upright, he had dozed off and was precariously leaning forward. Aziraphale whispered his name, and the amber eyes snapped open. The rest of the body took a moment to react, but Crowley gazed up and exploded into an excited smile when it did.

"Hey! You are awake! Are you alright?"

Aziraphale shifted.

"Sore, but I'm alright."

Crowley excitedly reached to the nightstand and held out the winged-mug.

"Fixed! All nice and... well, mug-gy again!"

Aziraphale beamed and reached for it.

Crowley leaned in and gently grabbed the nearest arm.

"Can't I get you anything? hmm? Anything at all? Are you hungry?"

Aziraphale smiled at the corner of his eyes as he drank his tea.

As he swallowed, the weight of the last two days pulled at his features.

"Crowley, tell me, how did you find me?"

"Just got moving fast. Right place, right time, I suppose. Hastur and Michael made the worst kidnappers this side of Hell."

Aziraphale sighed.

"I can hardly believe they would work together like that. But perhaps not so..."

"They are both imbeciles," Crowley interrupted. "Total imbeciles. They had no real plan. However, Gabriel was working on his own plan the whole time by making us feel safe. Basically keeping his distance to lull us into that state."

Aziraphale looked wounded at a memory.

"Crowley, I'm sorry I let that happen..."

"No, No," Crowley rushed, pressing a hand to his shoulder.

"Maybe you shouldn't have, but that doesn't matter. One of us would have fallen into something. And having a human involved..."

"OH! Lesley!" Aziraphale remembered, rousing in a panic.

"He's FINE! Just fine!"

Crowley clamped on his shoulders lightly until Aziraphale relaxed.

"Shook up, frightened, but I left him scot free and with little memory of the real incident."

Aziraphale's countenance remained troubled.

"He could have been hurt. I almost could have... destroyed him to keep us protected. I could have. And then..." 

Aziraphale's eyes lowered. "Hastur made him plead from his heart, made him know in his soul he'd hurt the woman he loved..."

"Angel," Crowley firmly commanded, squeezing his shoulder, "It's horrible, it could have ended like that. It didn't. We just have to be more careful. I know how much that hurt you, but it doesn't make you weak. You love humans and all those little feelings they have. That's why we are here, am I right?"

Aziraphale looked slightly comforted but still fatigued.

"And anyhow," Crowley said, trying to move the conversation along, " Look at it this way, Hastur and Michael were such idiots they messed up the Holy Water they tried to used against me!"

Aziraphale turned to a beaming Crowley, seeming confused. 

"Touched me again, and I didn't burn! I think Michael was suspicious of our previous act, and botched the Holy Water! I dunno how but..."

"Hmm, perhaps it wasn't just luck."

Crowley saw Aziraphale smiling and furrowed his brows.

"You...?"

Aziraphale looked cheeky.

The wind rushed from Crowley's mind and body, making him gasp and then squeak. "How? What?!" 

"Well, after I was put in the back of the truck," Aziraphale began breathlessly, "Our incompetent duo kept saying all their plans aloud. Michael provided the Holy Water to use, certain you had thwarted them last time, and felt it was worth trying it again. Hastur came up with the idea of loading it in balloons to toss at you, giving them distance."

"This is the most ridiculous plan I've heard yet," Crowley groused, actually afraid to admit it was a clever enough plan to have been perfectly fatal. 

"One of the Lesser Demons had the balloons in his pocket. I reached out an unblessed them while they weren't paying attention during that horrible van ride."

"You mean... cursed them?"

"Not exactly. Crowley, it's not easy to just bless Water and make it Holy. It takes skill and time. But any angel can unbless it in a snap, like putting out a fire. Since Heaven is not interested in casual Holy Water lying around all over the place..."

"I can attest to that."

"... it's a natural talent to have. If you cannot touch the actual Water to do this act, you can still do it with whatever is holding it. All vessels that hold the Water have usually been fountains, pitchers, bowls and such. Well, the balloons were still vessels. I couldn't get to the pitcher Michael had, so I had to do what I could. "

He gave a small grin that barely hid his pride.

Crowley grinned back in wonder, then gagged in terror.

"What... what if they dashed the pitcher on me?!"

Aziraphale looked sympathetic.

"I did everything I could, knowing the most likely scenario to play out."

Crowley smirked.

"That's my clever Angel!"

Aziraphale looked bashful, which brought some color back to his cheeks.

"And, Crowley, one more surprise!"

He held up a hand with a flourish.

"Nothing up my sleeve!" he grandly announced.

Crowley rolled his eyes and endured the cute magical act, bothered less because Azirphale was alive and here to do it.

"Hey, presto!"

A familiar key snapped into his fingers.

Crowley squinted and reached out to hold it.

"How the bloody Heaven did you get Dagon's Hell Key?"

Aziraphale bobbed his brows.

"It's Hastur's."

Crowley remembered now Hastur being stuck where he left him. And how he moved so fast to The Depths.

Crowley cried out with awe as he held it and felt the thousnands of Demonic years inside the metals.

"You.... you amazing, wonderful little bastard! Hah, Hastur's day just got worse since he lost his key!"

"Keep it," Aziraphale urged. "If you ever get caught, you can escape." 

Crowley snapped it to another plane for safekeeping.

"I'm going to make a copy. I can make it work. Get that idiot Shadwell to help me forge it, and I'll make it work. We both can have a copy!"

He lurched and grabbedAziraphale's shoulders while Aziraphale hugged back.

"See? My magic act paid off! I palmed it from Hastur's pocket right before he dumped me in that room. Before he knocked me out."

Crowley hugged him tighter.

"Christ, Angel," he muttered. "I wanted to kill everyone that harmed you."

He pulled back, feeling feeble suddenly. 

"You'd do the same for me, I know it."

Aziraphale looked downcast but didn't object at first. 

"I'm not that brave. Demons jumped me in my own Shop. I'm not a fighter, I couldn't even fight back...."

"Stop that!" Crowley hissed. "Please."

Aziraphale still looked hurt.

"Angel, listen; I was terrified to go back to Hell. But I was more terrified for you. Not because you were there, but what could happen to you. All I was thinking was I'd never see you again."

"Crowley," Aziraphale asked brightly, "You were in your real form, weren't you? Your True Form?"

Crowley tilted his head.

"Well, I got so worried and mad..."

"Crowley, you were magnificent."

Crowley sighed and scratched the side of his face.

"Angel, that's my real form. It's a disgusting low crawling beast of the earth..."

"Crowley, it's just you with another face."

He grinned and touched Crowley's hand. "If that was the first and only form I ever saw you in, you're still the same being I've always loved."

Crowley bowed his head, quivering a little.

"Aziraphale..."

"Crowley, please."

Aziraphale held the Demon's hands on his lap, rubbing their backs with his thumbs. 

Crowley bit his bottom lip, unable to look up.

"Even when you are a snake, it's just you. And all these years you've hardly shown that form. I trust it felt justified to be for what you were feeling needed doing at the time."

"Yeah," Crowley agreed. "I would have torn Angels and Demons apart like that if it came down to it. I would have gone back and forth to Heaven and Hell all day if it had to be done. Slithering might have saved the walking a little."

  
  


"Crowley, do you remember that song you liked? '500 miles'?"

Crowley sheepishly doubled down on not looking up.

"Uhhm, yeah."

____

Crowley didn't just like that song. Crowley liked it enough he blurted out during one of their drunk gatherings that it was an accurate comparison to the both of them.

Aziraphale wobbly asked how and what he meant. 

Crowley elaborated back and forth the specifics and particulars of how and why; Well, most obviously if he were to get drink with anyone, it would be him like they were doing at that moment. Like if he worked hard for money, which he didn't, he'd still give it to Aziraphale. If there was any door he would fall down at, and HAD fallen down at it, it was here at the Bookshop.

But his point, which took even longer to get to, was he'd walk 500 miles for Aziraphale. Aziraphale agreed airly he'd do the same, grateful Crowley would say that. Crowley wanted to prove how true it was by starting to belt out the song loudly. Immediately Aziraphale, grinning like a happy baby and trying to sit straight on his reading couch, joined in the duet. 

Maybe it was the last time that they sung that song together. (It was.) After sobering up both parties were left flustered ay the outpouring of their feelings. Not to mention the singing.

But neither forgot.

______________

"Well, that's me for you," Crowley finally burbled. "I'd have gone back to the Heaven I forsake if I knew you were there. Turned over every corner of the universe, fought anyone who stood in my way."

"Same. I was afraid I'd have to go back to Heaven like I did to save us. If you were there, I'd just make us both jump and Fall if we had to. Just to leave. As long as we'd have each other."

Crowley finally looked back up into the shining blue eyes.

Without warning, his limbs fell loose as his form collapsed before Aziraphale's eyes. Where their hands were touching, a huge black scaled ribbon lay. The Serpent form was thicker than Aziraphale's arm, and slowly pulled its enormous bulk up on the bed. 

Aziraphale's face didn't change as it slithered on and beside him. 

It was difficult to see where all the coils began and draped around the bed.

One came up beside Aziraphale's face, another across his middle, another the other way against his body. The head, almost a foot long, came to rest on his chest and settled down. Aziraphale stroked it as the rest of the body pulled close.

"Shall we rest a while longer, then?" Aziraphale asked quietly.

"Mmmm, I'd like that." Crowely hissed softly, turning his eyes to gaze up at the adoring face. He surged his neck up once to bop his snout against Aziraphale's nose. Aziraphale grinned warmly and giggled sleepily.

"Goodnight, Crowley." He murmured as he closed his eyes.

"G'night, Angel."

Crowley pulled a little tighter with a sigh, hearing the tiny tune humming Aziraphle was lazily in his chest.

"Da da da dun diddle un diddle un diddle uh da."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've left this you can see the relationship any way; they get down and dirty after resting up to it's all platonic asexual. Whatever, they are both partners and would do the same for each other. But that's not important, all that matter is they still love each other and would risk anything to save the other.  
> I like to think it's casual for Crowley to turn into a snake and he likes sleeping like that.  
> __  
> And now both will have copies of Hell Keys for future safety. ;) 
> 
> I don't think parts of Hell and Heaven had any plan, but jumped on a random idea to try and catch the duo that didn't work out and were very sloppy about it. Mostly for personal vengeance. OR to capture one of the other OR woo them back to the job because they are clueless how they survived the trials and think they'd make great glorious tools to have.  
> And a double thanks to Cherubino for helping me come up with the title! ;) 
> 
> Okay, thanks for reading! Nothing earth shattering. If you want more Crowley saving Aziraphale, check out
> 
> [Constraint](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25314310/chapters/61374478)
> 
> by GayDemonicDisaster . (Mature warning on that) 
> 
> And if you want the REVERSE of a smiting Angel rescuing his Demon, check out the dramatic
> 
> [The kind of heartache time could never mend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233541)
> 
> by fireflyslove

**Author's Note:**

> YES, both I am my beta caught one colloquialism; Going Postal is a more American term. I'm sure with the advent of pop culture it's better known in the UK. But I purposely left it as a nod to the Terry Prachett book. ;) Additionally, since the show said '90 MILES per hour," not kilometers, I left it that as well.  
> _
> 
> I've argued that Crowley couldn't go through the phone since the other team made to the call direct TO him, but perhaps that's up for fan debate?  
> _
> 
> I, in no way, want to hint either of the duo is weaker than the other. They both have strengths and weakness that could taken advantage of.
> 
> _  
> I like given Lesley small parts in my stories when I can. ;)


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